Intoxicated
by Enchanted Sloth
Summary: It seemed like no escort could put up with the drunken, rude, obnoxious Haymitch. He would antagonize the escorts until he was certain they wouldn't come back the next year. Until he met her. He hated her the most and she kept coming back. Hayffie.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there, Hayffie fandom! :D I can't explain this story. It's going to be multi-chaptered, I know, and I think it's basically going to be about Haymitch and Effie's romance throughout the books. And a little before the books. Maybe. All I know is that I keep writing it during class and, god forbid I don't stop, because next week I have my end of year tests. And...the outcome of that doesn't look so hot... :I  
As for my other Hayffie story, Giving In, thanks for all of your feedback on that! :D I'll hurry up with the second chapter and hopefully I'll have it up within the next two weeks! :)**

**I hope you enjoy this one though! **

* * *

He hated the capitol. He hated its people and he hated what they stood for. They were ignorant people, raised by ignorant people. You would think that if they learned the truth and witnessed the evidence they wouldn't be so ignorant…but, instead, they deny the truth and laugh it off. They were adult children who wore multicolored wigs and pattern clashing clothes like Ugly Betty.

It was not different for the escorts. Every year, District Twelve got a new escort because of the stubborn mentor who scared them all away. It seemed like no escort could put up with the drunken, rude, obnoxious Haymitch. He would yell at them, mock them, ignore them, snap at them, anything to make them leave.

Until he met her.

It wasn't love at first sight. No, he hated her the moment he laid eyes on her. She was just another capitol girl, fake, ignorant, and shrill. Her wigs, wardrobe, and makeup were even more outlandish than the escorts the year before.

But the next year, she came back, leaving Haymitch wondering if he had done something wrong. Not in a moral sense, but more in a 'I thought I got on your nerves enough why are you still here' sense.

So he decided to try harder…but she kept coming back.

And on her third year, it happened.

It was the middle of the night and he had been shaken awake by his nightmares. Obviously, he thought, his drink intake for the day wasn't high enough. So he stumbled into the viewing room, trying to find the small bar that always sat in the far right hand corner. And that's when he saw her. Her skin was clear of its thick mask, the tear marks still fresh on her freckled, rosy cheeks. She had taken off her wig, the faint golden curls strewn around her. The TV was on, a list of dead tributes and their profiles scrolling past. Both of their tributes had already died he supposed, watching, watching their female flicker upon the screen. She had only turned twelve a day before the reaping and when she was picked, she didn't seem fazed. She had fallen for Effie's bright, positive personality and followed her around like a baby duck every chance she got. She never cried or looked upset, almost like she had accepted her fate, unlike the boy tribute who cried through every meal.

Right before she had left the arena, she had given Effie a necklace. It was woven with flowers and had random beads between them that were dulled, pastel colors. Right now, the necklace rested above her heart, her graceful, wacky nails free, hands clutching it tightly.

That night, his opinion of the woman softened. Forgetting his drink, he padded back to his room softly and grabbed a blanket. Once he was back in the cold, dark viewing room, he placed it on her, tucking in the sides.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," He whispered, smiling softly as he saw the corners of her mouth lift ever so slightly.

That night, his nightmares weren't so gruesome.

* * *

Effie awoke quickly, realizing she wasn't in her bedroom. She noticed the necklace, still clutched in her hand, and slipped it over her head. The blanket that covered her body was exactly like the one in her bedroom…but it smelt different. Familiar.

Haymitch.

She wrapped herself around the blanket again and briefly closed her eyes. Or, at least, she thought it was brief.

Hearing footsteps and thinking it was an Avox, she pulled the sweet smelling cover over her face to hide it.

"Oh, Princess, you awake?"

Her eyes shot open in the darkness.

'_It's Haymitch! …when did he start calling me-'_

"Princess, undo those darned blankets. You'll suffocate."

"I'd rather suffocate than let you see me without my makeup!" She hissed.

Haymitch actually winced.

"Ouch, that hurt, Sweetheart. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I've already seen you without your 'face' on." He snapped, instantly regretting it.

Effie glared into the covers.

"…'m sorry for snapping at you, Effie…but to be honest, I don't really understand why you wear that stuff in the first place." He apologized, speaking softly.

"Because it makes me beautiful! Without it-"

"Without it you're beautiful, Princess." Haymitch smirked.

The covers flew back, flying towards Haymitch's face. The two objects collided, sending Haymitch stumbling to the floor.

"Haymitch Abernathy, what did you say!" She shouted, unable to stop the blush that crept upon her cheeks.

"I said you're beautiful, Woman! Can't you take a compliment?" Haymitch exclaimed, shoving the blanket aside.

He looked at Effie, her face erupting in a bashful smile.

"You really think so?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Sweetheart." His smile was toothy.

That's how it was for a few years. He had suddenly seen her as a human being so he decided to treat her like one. They got closer, beginning to understand each other, even. He would speak about his games (after a lot of prying on her part) and she would speak about her childhood of manners, punctuality, and lady-likeness (after realizing he wouldn't be able to get her to shut up so he just decided to stop trying and actually listen). Their parted ways after each game was loathed. Haymitch didn't really need to drink as much with Effie around when the mere sight of her intoxicated him. And there was only one explanation to these feelings:

He had fallen for the escort.

He knew this was very, _very_ bad considering that any year now she could be promoted to a higher district. She sure deserved it due to the fact that she could put up with _him._ So he only wished he could enjoy their time together for a little longer.

* * *

The 73rd Hunger Games. Their tributes had already died, few tears were shed and there was more disappointment than anything else.

So it was during that time that he decided to ask her.

"Hey, Effie, why do you stay?" Haymitch asked, keeping his eyes focused on the glass in his hand.

"What? Why? Do you want me to leave?" She asked, anger evident in her voice.

Haymitch's eyes widened.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I meant, why do you keep coming back as District Twelve's escort? Usually we get a new escort every year-mostly thanks to me-but you keep coming back." He restated.

Effie sighed.

"What other reasons do I have for coming back other than you?" She looked at him, her bright blue eyes dulled because of the gruesome scene on the television screen.

"But _why_? I'm nothing but an old, mean drunk who annoys you to no end! There's absolutely nothing 'good' about me to stay for!" He waved his hands in desperation.

Effie smiled, grabbing Haymitch's hand tenderly.

"None of that matters. You put yourself down, but you actually have redeeming qualities. You're handsome, you're honest, you're clever when you're not drunk, and all the rude things you do have reasons. You drink because of the nightmares, you distance yourself because you're afraid you'll lose the ones you love, and you hate the capitol because of what they did to you." She spoke softly.

Haymitch could do nothing but stare and blink, watching as she spoke.

"I love you."

It was something that they had-he had- vowed never to say. Not when he really meant it. He didn't want Effie to get hurt…

But it couldn't be stopped now.

Haymitch leaned forward slowly, cupping Effie's cheek in his hand as he smiled.

"You've got some redeeming qualities yourself, Princess. You're beautiful, you're kind, you're understanding, you're eyes have got to be the prettiest things I have ever seen…Sweetheart, I honestly don't deserve you," He leaned in closer, their foreheads touching.

"And I'm pretty sure I love you more."

And that was all it took. Haymitch knew they could never go back to the way things were before.

Their lips touched softly at first, and Haymitch knew for certain that he would never go back, even if he could.

* * *

**8I I hope it was alright and I hope you enjoyed it! Also, I hope Haymitch isn't too out of character. :P I like to think that around Effie he loses his gruff act. Just for her. :) Now, I'm off to get ready to kiss those Desperate Housewives goodbye! :( GIVE ME A BUCKET FOR ALL OF MY CREYS. TT_TT**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi again! :D I now have a plot for this. OH YES. But it has to lead up to the plot because I don't just want to start the story and confuse you guys...so I'm going to keep going, friends. :) **

* * *

They decided to keep their relationship secret so Effie wouldn't get hurt. It was nice, but they still had to go their separate ways after the train ride. Effie made little excuses to visit District Twelve and left her capitol attire behind. When she visited, she was au natural, leaving District Twelve inhabitants to wonder what Haymitch got himself into.

Kisses, hugs, touches, angst, and sarcastic comments described their relationship. Haymitch still drank to keep the nightmares away, but he made sure to sober up _a little _when he knew Effie was coming around. He even tried to tidy his house a bit before she came, but the empty alcohol bottles still kept stacking up. At _least_ they were empty.

But soon it came the time where Effie visited District Twelve in her usual outlandish garb. She visited Haymitch's house before the reaping, knowing it would be for the best if she didn't try to get him to sober up. It was better if he went to the reapings drunk. If he showed up drunk then he would lash out and do something that would result in a brutal punishment for the both of them. No, she came to his house and moped because she wasn't looking forward to drawing those names out of the glass globe and being the cause of two more innocent deaths.

When she stepped upon his porch, he opened the door and ushered her inside.

"Hey there, Sweetheart." He smiled stiffly, trying to lighten the mood.

She looked at him, trying to smile back, but it all came out in tears.

He opened his arms, wrapping them around her like he did every year. It had become a ritual between the two. Effie would become emotional before the reaping, Haymitch would make it better, and Effie would be her usual cheerful self until the tributes got into the arena. She was then ancy, forlorn Effie as she watched them die. And Haymitch was there, once again, to make it all better. Even though it would never be better.

Effie began rambling about the reaping. How unfair it was, how pointless it was, how heartless it was, so on so forth. So Haymitch couldn't help but ask the question that always rang in his mind.

"If you hate it so much, then why are you an escort in the first place? You could quit your job, Sweetheart."

Effie pulled from his embrace, her thick white mask tear stained.

"The reason is obvious Haymitch," She sighed "Considering the only reason is _you._"

"Oh...but, Princess, I don't want to make you do something you don't enjoy. Why not move down here to District Twelve...with me." He knew that would never happen and it was a bad idea anyways. If Effie moved in with him or even _near_ him, Snow would use it against him. He didn't want Effie to get hurt.

She smiled softly and the tears slowed considerably.

"I would love to, Haymich, but I can't. We all know how...you lost your family. And...it could happen again. Plus, I just can't 'quit my job', Haymitch. Being an escort doesn't work like that."

She looked down.

"Some of us don't apply for this job, Haymitch. Some of us are raised for it. _Chosen, _almost. Truth be told, I spent the first four years of my life in a district...I can't quite remember which one it was, but I wasn't _born_ in the capitol. My parents did something that offended the capitol, I suppose, and as a punishment, they were going to take me away from them. But my parents died fighting to keep me from them. In the end, I suppose it was inevitable. I didn't apply for this job, Haymitch. After the age of four, this became the life I was _trained _for." She admitted, her voice soft.

Effie always went too far and said too much when she was upset.

Haymitch watched as a lone tear slowly fell from her closed eye, his hand automatically raising to brush it away tenderly. She leaned into his touch, smiling a little.

"I knew you were different, Princess." He muttered.

She jumped up suddenly, almost tripping over alcohol bottles on her way to the bathroom.

"Go get ready, Haymitch! It's time! I have to re-do my makeup now..." Her voice trailed off.

"Thank you for letting me cry on you, Haymitch. And I'm sorry for ruining your shirt...I suppose I really didn't want you out in public wearing that one." She giggled.

Haymitch looked down at the uneven-buttoned, navy blue button up. It was ruffled and there was a small, unidentified stain deserted in the middle of the lumpy-like plain that was his chest.  
It looked perfectly fine.

"What's wrong with it?" He hollered, confused.

"Haymitch, there's a hole in your back. And that stain..."

Haymitch tried to look over his shoulders for the hole, but his neck could only do so much.

Effie stood in the doorway, watching the man who looked like a dog chasing its tail. Her smile was soft, the love for the obviously drunken man growing stronger.

If only she knew how to tell him that she was assigned to District Twelve because she, too, had been born in the poor, coal district.

If only.

–

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Those were the names of their tributes for the 74th Hunger Games. Katniss was a fighter, her whole life a constant struggle for survival. Not to say Peeta's life wasn't a struggle, but it was always easier for a merchant's kids. But here's the catch: Peeta is the reason Katniss lived by throwing her the bread because he is in love with her.

They were in the arena now, asleep. Haymitch sat on Effie's bed, contemplating these tributes.

"Do you think we have survivors?" Effie called from the bathroom where she was ridding herself of the fakeness.

"...I don't know. The boy says he wants to keep the girl alive. Says she's more important than he is. Stronger, too." He answered, sprawled out on the bed, making patterns in the ceiling. "But what do you think?" He asked.

"I think we do. Her score was a sure sign that we might. And they've made it through the cornucopia...this is the closest we've had in years." Her voice got closer with every word.

She climbed into the bed beside of him, cuddling into his side.

"Maybe this year I won't have to go back to district twelve with two caskets. Maybe just one." He thought out loud. Though either way you look at it, the trip back to district twelve wasn't something to look forward to.

"Or wouldn't it be something if you went back without any casket..." Effie yawned.

Without any casket?

"Good night Mitchy, love you," Effie mumbled, her words drowsy.

Mitchy? When did_ that_ start happening?

"...night Sweetheart. Love you too." He chuckled.

Effie was full of surprises. Where did that idea come from? Not that he didn't like it, it would be a miracle if that could actually happen, but the hunger games didn't allow 'thinking outside of the box'. The rules were the rules and they were only changed under extreme circumstances.

But just maybe.

He closed his eyes, pulling Effie in closer to him. She sighed contently, her arm falling across Haymitch's chest.

–

"Haymitch! They can both live!" Effie exclaimed, jumping from the couch.

"Yup" He smiled crookedly. The cheesing he had to do with Seneca really must have paid off.

"...you had something to do with this, didn't you?" She asked, cocking her head. The bright orange wig shifted.

He smirked. "I wouldn't have thought to do this if it weren't for you, Hun."

"You sly man. Lets just say Seneca and I will be friends for a _**long**_ time." He laughed.

She laughed back, thinking it was amazing that Haymitch actually schmoozed like she did. Thinking that it was amazing that Haymitch actually _tried_ to keep his tributes alive for once.

He took her into his arms and held her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through is dark curls. He sighed, running his hands up and down her back.

Effie never wanted to leave his arms. And she didn't.

She stayed in them all night.

–

They won.

Katniss shot Cato with her arrow, putting him out of his misery. The canon went off and the star crossed lovers were left.

They won.

Effie slowly looked at Haymitch, her mouth agape. He shushed her, watching the screen intently.

Suddenly, Seneca came over the intercom, telling them that the rule had been revoked.

Haymitch's face went slack as he watched Katniss pull out the nightlock, his eyes glued to the moving pictures. Effie's mouth formed a thin line as she tried hard to keep the tears from falling.

The berries were in their mouths when Seneca came back over the intercom, his voice rushed and nervous, saving their lives. The two tributes hugged, watching the sky as their hovercraft came into view.

And it was over. They truly won.

Haymitch flickered off the TV and their eyes met. Effie smiled from ear to ear and Haymitch couldn't help but crack a grin. He also couldn't help but to jump up, take her into his arms, and spin her around.

He knew that Katniss and Peeta were going to be in lots of trouble and he knew they were going to be punished by Snow. He knew that they were going to have nightmares and he knew they were going to have to find a way to deal with it. It was going to be hard. But none of that made his next words any harder.

"Marry me."

* * *

**Angst? I...this whole chapter was fluff. I think. I do believe. Well, maybe except for the beginning. Did you like it? It's...I write this during school (When I should be paying attention in class) for my friend. She's not the biggest fan of angst so I try to keep it as fluffy as I'm able to. Though, I'm happy to say that when it goes into Mockingjay, it's going to get pretty intense. :D I hope you like it a little.**


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